Bent, Not Broken
by A-Box-Of-Scraps
Summary: Clint learned the hard way that the world was out to get you. Natasha had known that since birth. They both knew that everything you had could be taken away in a single moment. So when they found each other, they understood perfectly what it was like to not trust anything.


**Just a one-shot that scooted into my head and Practically begged me to write it. I own nothing... Sadly... (Even the picture) Because Coulson would never have died if I was in charge. **

**Coulson: Just keep telling yourself that, and maybe it'll come true.**

**Me: See? He's back already!**

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Of course, she was gone. She hadn't even pretended to stay handcuffed to the bed, or even attempted to disguise her actions from the security camera. Coulson watched his Agent on the security camera in frustration as she effortlessly picked the locks, stared into the security camera, and leaped out the window. Again. For, like, the third time today. Very frustrating for all the security members, because Natasha Romanoff needed to be resting. Despite what she seemed to think, she was breakable. And human. And she was totally avoiding Clint. They had just gotten back from a mission in Saudi Arabia, trying to get a location lock on some drug-smugglers. When they thought that the location was correct, Natasha had sauntered into the joint and totally beaten them up. In and out mission, easy as cake. Except, of course, for the fact that Natasha had managed to get a major concussion and a broken arm. Clint had rushed her back to SHIELD instantly, in a panic. She had laughed at him, teasing him all about how he was about to have a heart attack because she had a bruise.

Turns out that her arm was broken in 3 places.

It was actually worry some how easily the Black Widow could out-fox all of the SHIELD medical staff. They would bind her to the bed, and put an IV drip in her arm. By the time that they had turned back around from signing some forms, she was gone out the open window. Which had definitely not been open before. Some Agents ran after her, and hauled her back into the medical ward. She never stayed for long, just until the guards turned their backs. She did, of course, have a weakness, but it was a costly weakness. She would stay in the ward if her partner was there. Clint was always there for her, which was also frustrating, because he needed to be resting also. Or on another mission, or doing paperwork, or some other thing that required his resources. But if Natasha was hurt, he dropped everything.

"Don't talk to me about paperwork, I'm clearly busy!"

"What do you mean! You're sitting in a hospital room, watching your unconscious partner!"

"Exactly!"

It was infuriating, thought Coulson, because Natasha was just as protective of Clint as Clint was of Natasha. In a mission in Gulmeria, he had fallen out of a tree when defending her back. He had landed on a bed of rocks, breaking both his legs. By the time that Natasha had gotten to him, he had been lying there, helpless, but surrounded by the bodies of all the idiots who had attacked him. She had dragged him back to medical and sat by his bedside, telling him stories of Norse gods. Things that didn't exist, stories of magic and monsters and Gods that could fix everything. But that wasn't real, it was just another lie that the Norse had made up.

"Clint, if this was real, what would you think?"

"What real? Loki and Thor, the bifrost, Asguard?"

"Yes, the story. Gods. All of it."

"Well, I don't think I could sleep at night. I would always be looking for someone to blame."

Someone to blame. Someone other then themselves.

What a luxury.

One time the medics were stupid, and placed them in wards on the other side of the hospital from each other. They had both broken out of their own rooms, putting their doctor's in hysterics. They had found each other, tracked each other down, and then gone back to the same room together. Solitary confinement? Pah!

"You're not supposed to be here Clint. Coulson is going to have a fit."

"So what? I mean, has that ever stopped me before?"

"Why do I even try?"

When they were asked about it, they shrugged. Laughed it off. They were great liars, but even better deflectors, and that was even worse. But the truth was they didn't feel safe without each other. The world had been cruel to them. Natasha was an orphan with a red ledger, the pages of it dripping in red blood. She had spent most of her life in the red room. Hard, emotionless, and killing because that was expected of her. When you did what you were supposed to, then nobody stayed mad at you. Then you lived longer, and that had been her life. Clint's past was nothing to smile at either. His parents had been killed at a young age, and his older brother Barney had taken care of him. For a time, until he had taken off with what little money that the brothers had left. That was the day that Clint learned you couldn't trust anybody. He went to a circus, where he was forced to watch other happy families, rich and carefree, enjoying a day out. A day without pain.

Oh, the things Clint could tell about pain.

But when they were together it was better.

They had made it though. When Clint had lowered his pistol in Budapest, it had been something more then the one shot he had ever missed. It had been the start of a partnership formed on blood, sweat, and tears. A vent for when the world had slapped your face, telling you that you weren't good enough. Somebody else who knew that there was nobody else in this rock, spinning eternally in space, who had the same worries as you. Another person who understood that nobody could be trusted.

Because when they were with each other, they were bent, not broken.

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**Just a quick little one-shot. Reviews are appreciated!**


End file.
